Return II

Chapter 4

Michael's POV

I turn to my youngest son just as he slams the door and slides to the ground. Everyone in the room turns and eyes him. He presses his hands to his face and sobs into them. Then, everyone begins to hound him—to speak to him all at once.

"Blanket?"

"What's the matter?"

"What the hell."

"Blanket, what's wrong?"

I know better than to speak to him when he is upset. Everyone should know that, because he cannot handle his emotions correctly and being hounded about what is the matter will only make it worse. 

"Shut up!" He screams and stands to his feet. "Leave me alone!" He throws the door open and runs down the hall way without shutting it behind him. I glance around the room at my family, whose mouths are gaping and faces full of complete and utter shock.

Taryn appears in the doorway—her face glistening and eyes red with tears. "I'll go—" Prince begins, but I stop him and shake my head. "Don't. Leave him be for a minute. He needs to cool off." Prince exhales. 

I look back up at Taryn and tilt my head. "What is going on?" I ask and she sniffles. "Taryn," I pause and she looks up from staring at the ground. "What is wrong?"

"I need to talk to you." She mumbles so quietly that the only words I hear are "need", "talk" and "you". I turn around and look at everyone's faces. They stay silent and I find myself looking past them at Natalie. I have a feeling that whatever Taryn needs to talk to me about is not going to be good.

"I need to go check on Blanket." I blurt, walking past my ex-wife and towards the exit of the hospital. I want to avoid all conversation with her for now, because I do not think I am ready to hear whatever it is she needs to say. I have had enough bad news to last me a lifetime and quite frankly, having any more will deteriorate whatever is left of my faith. 

I know I need to talk to Taryn eventually, though, because if she is planning on doing something unworthy, she will need me to talk her out of it. By the words of her body language, I can tell that whatever she has to talk to me about will not be easy and I can only hope and pray that she holds on just long enough for me to finish comforting our son.

. . . .

I find Blanket sitting on the parking lot curb in front of the large hospital. There is a parked car behind him and he is staring at the ground while kicking the pebbles under his feet. I am sure to be cautious as I walk to him; as I do not want to startle him and make him angrier than he already is.

I approach him and he looks up. "Hey. . ." I begin slowly. He nods at the ground in front of him. I squat down and peer at him as he stares at the ground.

"Do you think it's worth it?" My son asks shakily. I tilt my head. He looks at me and wets his lips, then bites the lower one; the way I always do. 

"What is?" I ask softly. Blanket shakes his head again. "It's not fair, dad. Not to her. Not to us. It's just—" he trails off, shaking his head. I place my hand on his knee and he swallows. "What's bothering you, Blanket?" I ask and he glares at me as if I had called him by the wrong name. "Mom wants to take Natalie off of life support." He mutters. My mouth falls open and my heart sinks.

What?

"She's just gonna let her die, she—" He stops mid-sentence and begins sobbing.

This is what Taryn wanted to talk to me about. This was the bad feeling I had gotten looking at my injured daughter.